


Snippet: The Debutante Ball

by gatekat



Series: Short Things [16]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Noble AU, Reincarnation, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-11-24 10:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: Jazz goes to the Praxian debutante ball....well that went sideways fast.





	1. The Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568/chapters/36864630

Of the many social duties Jazz had as an unbonded creation of the Lord of Polyhex going to every debutant ball hosted by royalty was the highlight of his metacycle. Intentionally staggered so no two cities were in competition for eligible adults it was so much fun to draw out what each mechling was really like. That it often ended for a roll or three in a berth getting to show them just how much fun their new equipment was only added to the fun.

Praxians were a flashy lot, third only to Vos and Helix in the show they made of their frames. They always made him feel under decorated despite his finish being suitable for visiting the Prime. He was sure it was simply their nature and was as much in how they carried themselves as the array of glittering things painted, glued and magnetized to their armor. This vorn's batch of new mechlings was no exception. Every one was a vision of shimmering, glittering perfection in motion and poise as they descended the ballroom's grand staircase after being announced by their creators, full designation and titles.

As much as he loved the show when the grand-creation of the Lord of Praxus was introduced he shinned in a completely different way. A simple paint job of black and white with a crimson chevron and golden chevron shield was harsh and stark, a match for features that belonged to a much longer and harder existence than a royal prince should have. He'd heard of it of course, everyone had. Lord Prowl's unpleasant nature made the entire empire glad he was a fifth creation and of little consequence politically beyond these halls. By all accounts the prince was happy about it too.

Now though, seeing that simple black and white pattern under the iridescent shimmer coat and swirling patterns of his city and station in the palest blue beryl that matched his optics and if rumor was true his spark, Jazz was sure there was something more going on. No being with Prowl's known background became that angry and cold that young. It made his spark ache to see it. He was cautious in his approach though and flitted among the more friendly mechlings first while keeping a hidden optic on Prowl as the Praxian did his duty of circulating. It wasn't lost on Jazz that Prowl's older siblings ghosted around keeping an optic on him while he socialized looking for a potential mate. 

Eventually Jazz worked his way over to Prowl. Just as he opened his mouth to greet the lower-ranked mechling he teeked Prowl's field and the _recognition-shock_ in it. As he processed that his spark went wild in recognition and screamed at him to grab Prowl and never let go. From Prowl's look and teek his spark was doing about the same.

"Not in public," Smokescreen's voice was low in Jazz's audial as the older Praxian carefully shepherded them from the ballroom. He paused when they were inside one of the private rooms nearby and faced his brother. A sharp click dragged the mechling's attention to him. "You're sure."

Prowl nodded, it taking all his effort to keep his attention on Smokescreen and not the other mech.

Smokescreen nodded and waved his fingers in front of Jazz to be sure he had his attention.

"Prowl came with a broken spark bond. You _cannot_ spark merge," he tried to ignore Prowl's threatening growl, "or you'll end up spark bonded."

Jazz's visor flickered at the seriousness of the warning. Not that it would be a political problem but he did not want to be bonded to a stranger.

"Got it," Jazz promised and Smokescreen left.


	2. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568/chapters/36917781

Jazz had been raised to not believe that love happened. In truth they'd tried to teach him that love wasn't real. It was only when it became clear that he wasn't buying it by pointing to his creators that they switched tactics and drilled into him that love was something a couple worked on, developed and had to maintain just as any alliance. A few vorns of watching carefully when they didn't think he was watching and he believed that. He was willing to put in the work to have what his creators had.

While he'd always known that it was possible he'd legally bond to a stranger in a political union it never occurred to him that there might be a medical reason to bond too. Prowl might have gotten the worse half of the deal but now that Jazz had been close to him for a couple orns he felt it clearly. The ache of absence had always been there he just hadn't been aware of it before because he knew nothing else. He already knew he'd spark bond to this mech soon just because of that ache even if a legal bond couldn't be arranged.

He still wanted to get to know Prowl a little better first. What the mech's hopes and plans were beyond finding his previous bonded and not hurting. What he did in his down time. If he had any favored mechanimals. Who his friends were. The little talking they'd managed between intense interfacing, exhausted recharge, tolerating Prowl's family members dropping by to ensure things were still well and that they had not merged had mostly centered on reassuring Prowl that he hadn't already scared Jazz off. Fortunately the servants were silent and timed their visits to leave energon and clean up a bit for when they were both deeply in recharge.

In this moment though he was content to look down at the recharging young Praxian that teeked so very content to be right where he was. 

He might not love Prowl but he could see a time when he would if that was what they both wanted.


	3. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568/chapters/37266941

How Jazz allowed himself to be dragged away from Prowl and how Prowl allowed it to happen was something Jazz was sure he'd never understand. He was sure it had to do with a lifetime of obedience to the mecha demanding it.

The Lords of Polyhex had come to Praxus to hear about this mess from their third creation. Jazz was sure a bonding contract would be written before they left. He intended to insist on it.

"Creators," Jazz bowed to them when they stopped in an intimate parlor. As long as a servant was around he would be as formal as he knew how.

"Creation," Ladies Rilla and Sweetsong inclined their helms in reply and Rilla motioned them to sit on the couch together when the servant slipped away. Jazz snuggled between them and relaxed, his field beginning to express the distress in his spark.

"I never realized how much it hurt until I experienced it not hurting," he whispered and soaked in their warmth. "What do you know?"

"Only the basics. He is of age now that the details are his to tell or not. They did pass on that the priests emphasized that his temperament and sociability would improve significantly once he was bonded again."

"I believe it. Even what I'm feeling would make me ill-tempered before long," Jazz began to relax between his creators, soothed by fields and touch. As much as it was sparkling behavior and undignified in a full adult he couldn't care and they allowed it. He really did hurt. It wasn't hurting in the normal sense, not like when he snapped his leg landing badly or the crash he was in learning to drive. It wasn't even like the pain of overcharge recovery or the time he consumed something that had really disagreed with his systems. This was an emptiness, something being missing, and it seemed to suck all the energy from him. Just to keeping his fuel pump going was a test of will. 

"What is he like?" Sweetsong asked when he'd settled some.

"I don't really know much. He's hurting, he's crazy focused and he's utterly terrified he's going to scare me off. It's ... hard to think about anything but getting closer to him," Jazz summed up what he'd worked out.

"Because you're functional and he really isn't," Rilla explained gently. "Do you want a contract written?"

"Yes. I want to get to know him better before we bond. I'm less sure I'll manage," he shivered between them suddenly cold.

"Given the reason for it I do not have issue," Rilla gave permission for it. "It simply won't be legal until the ceremony."

"Thank you, creators," Jazz relaxed that they really wouldn't be upset if the bond happened before the bonding. "This isn't the love match I wanted but I think I can love him. He seems like a nice mech."

"Good," Sweetsong smiled and hugged him.

"I think I'd like to go back. It's getting ... too cold," he sighed at the inaccurate description he could do no better than as much as the truth of it.

"Then go. We will work out the legalities with his creators while you keep each other warm," Rilla kissed his forehelm.


	4. Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568/chapters/37342313/

Prowl gave himself over to the music, the motion, the intense energy expenditure that was playing his he'ron, a full sized light cage harp build in a room of his suite. It was the only thing keeping him from screaming once Jazz had left the room. It hurt so much he was shaking and took the servant's corridors to his suite so he wouldn't be seen by the public. He knew he'd never manage without Jazz close by again. The emptiness was too much after the soothing of having that field against him.

He was aware when the door opened, the gasp and shudder of the one who'd just been blasted by the discordant notes intended to cause enough pain to distract. It wasn't until the music stopped that he realized he was leaving the stage to sweep the intruder up in his arms and kissed him fiercely.

"What did your creators say?" Prowl asked as he guided the somewhat stunned Jazz towards his berthroom.

"They'll work out a contract before they leave. They aren't demanding the spark bond wait until the ceremony," Jazz relaxed against the other half of his spark. "I want to know you better. The music. Yours?"

"I wouldn't call it music. It's a distraction from the emptiness. Pain and movement and sensory overload sometimes helps," Prowl explained as they all but fell into the berth and another kiss made passionate with hands and want.

"Mmm, want to know more about you before we bond," Jazz panted, struggling to keep his chest plates closed.

"What?" Prowl shivered, willing to give anything to have the spark above him. In the chaos of his processor a moment of clarity opened his wrist dataport and loosened the cable. He reached for Jazz's wrist and rubbed for his cable to extend. "This is faster."

Jazz stared for a nanoklik and nodded before plugging in. The instant he was hit by Prowl's state and comprehended that Prowl was trying to shield him all the questions fled him and he opened his chest plates.

~We are going to bond. I'll know you soon enough,~ Jazz whispered across the hardline to a wave of relief-need when their first leaders made contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **he'ron** : aka the Praxian circular harp, stage harp, light cage harp and performance harp. With most music for it written for six limbs configured as 2 legs, 2 arms and 2 wings it has never become common outside cities where winged frames gather in large numbers (Helix, Praxus and Vos). Closely related to both the cyberharp and infinite beam stage laser harp this light-string instrument encloses the player in a complex web of light 'strings' on every side and above when activated. It is considered both a classical instrument and a folk instrument, depending on the music played and setting. It is also arguably the most athletic instrument to play.


End file.
